


Truth

by KaitanISB021



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Headcanon, Post-Episode: S03E215 The Honorable Ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9638699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaitanISB021/pseuds/KaitanISB021
Summary: A rebel captain faces interrogation by the notorious Agent Kallus, but is unprepared for his methods.





	

**Author's Note:**

> May contain or imply Season 2/early Season 3 spoilers. Written and posted prior to Season 3: Through Imperial Eyes.  
> May eventually be part of a series of Kallus shorts.  
> Reference to previous series canon violence (i.e., torture, Lasan massacre)  
> (Cross-posted at TheForce.Net and Fanfiction.net)

**_Truth_ **

Flanked by four stormtroopers, Captain Ranu was being quick-marched down the hallway of an Imperial administration building, two blasters uncomfortably jabbing into her kidneys. She smiled ruefully. At least they didn’t take it for granted that she would go easily.

The stormtroopers stopped in front of a nondescript door. One pressed the door com.

“Agent Kallus? We have the prisoner.”

Ranu’s heart jumped into her mouth. Agent Kallus, a high-ranking member of the Imperial Security Bureau, was apparently on the other side of that door. Her hands clenched into fists, tightening the binders which secured them in front of her. 

Agent Kallus was known to be ruthless. Stories had made it back to the newly-formed rebel alliance. Dark stories. Torture, ruthless murder, genocide. Doing the bidding of Lord Vader. Working with the cold and clever Grand Admiral Thrawn. And she knew that the ISB was known for effectively…extracting information from captured leaders. She took a deep breath. She felt sick. This was going to be her biggest challenge yet in her near-lifetime of rebellion. 

“Enter,” growled the voice on the other side of the door.

The door slid open to reveal a plain office with a window and a desk. A tall man with reddish-blond hair and a closely-cropped beard—no, large sideburns, actually, now that she looked—and dressed in a dark grey and black uniform sat behind the desk, looking at a datapad. His eyes glanced up as the stormtroopers marched her into the room. He stood and walked toward them, searching her face carefully as he approached. He walked with a slight limp, she noticed. But more than that…she had never met him before, and yet he seemed strangely familiar. She saw his eyes widen slightly as he approached, but then his face hardened into an impenetrable mask.

“Thank you, soldiers. You may leave the prisoner here.” He turned to the officer who stood to the side of the three soldiers. “I will call you when I am…done here.” He turned menacingly toward Ranu. Her stomach turned.

“Yes, sir.” The soldiers and the officers saluted briskly and turned to leave the office. She was alone with the agent. Her eyes quickly scanned the room for weapons, for escape routes—anything that could help her in a match with this monster. When her eyes returned to the agent, she noticed he was watching her with a smirk.

“Any luck? Have you found a way out? Or perhaps discovered a clever way to render me senseless while my back is turned?” He snorted derisively. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, rebel,” he growled, turning to walk back to his desk. She noticed he kept one eye on her nonetheless. He was no fool, this man. She had binders on, but she could still fight, and he knew it. But he also knew that she didn’t have a chance of getting anywhere in this imperial facility on her own. There was little on his desk to use as a weapon anyway—nothing but a datapad and a strange, glowing meteorite.

“Nice rock,” she said. 

Kallus turned quickly and walked to the desk, placing the rock in a drawer and turning the key with a click. “You aren’t going to smash me over the head with that, rebel. Thank you for the reminder.” 

He glanced out the window. “You will find that this office, on the fifth floor of the Imperial Headquarters, is rather unfortunately high for a daring escape. Near the roof, in fact. A floor below your cell, which is an even higher jump—or fall.” His eyes flicked back to her, then away again. “Unless you are hiding a jetpack under your uniform, or have rather more resilient bones than you appear to have at first glance, you aren’t going anywhere, rebel.” 

Fifth floor. She followed his gaze out the window at the setting sun and clocked her position. Fifth floor, south side. Cells on the sixth. That would be useful information if she could ever get a message out of here. She was surprised that the Imp let that slip. Sloppy.

He came around from behind the desk and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at her with that searching gaze, eyes narrowed. “So. Let’s get on with this. Name?” 

“Ziro,” she spat back defiantly.

Kallus’s eyes widened and, much to her surprise, his head tipped back as he barked out a hearty, genuine laugh. He looked almost boyish for a moment. He met her gaze again, a wide smile on his face for a moment before he controlled his mirth with some effort. “The rebels have a surprisingly rich connection to infamous intergalactic crime families, it seems. Not that I should be surprised. Nonetheless, I have to point out that you are a little….small for a Hutt.” He placed his hand over his mouth, wiping away the smile that was creeping back. “Small. And human. And female, which is rather at odds with our knowledge of Ziro the Hutt. That, and the fact that you are alive.” He chuckled softly and walked away from her, hands clasped behind his back.

Ranu’s face reddened. She did not like being mocked. She narrowed her eyes. “May you burn in the fires of Mustafar, Imp.”

Kallus turned back to her with an unreadable expression on his face. “Although it is not entirely out of the ordinary for the Empire to grant a reasonable prisoner request,” he said, turning to look out the window again, “I am afraid that that particular request will have to go unmet.” In a lower voice, as if to himself, he added, “for today, at any rate.”

He walked back to his desk and pulled out a circular metallic device. “I suppose I’ll have to do this the hard way, then.”

Ranu’s heart started beating faster. “I can withstand your torture, Agent. I will give you nothing.”

Kallus approached her with the band, shaking his head. He looked annoyed and, if possible, bored. “I don’t think torture is really necessary at this stage, is it, Miss Ziro? Torture is a rather….crude approach. And pain is a blunt instrument. I don’t need to use them to get what I want.”

Ranu’s eyes flashed. “That’s pretty rich coming from the Butcher of Lasan.”

Much to Ranu’s surprise, the Agent reacted as if he’d been slapped—for just a moment, before he replaced his expression with a mask of grim impassivity.

She was surprised. In that brief moment, his face had registered hurt, anger, something more.… But why, she wondered, would that comment bother him? It was true—she was sure at least that that story about him was true. Kallus was notorious for having called for the use of T-7 ion disruptors in the genocide on Lasan. She had heard through the grapevine that he had even bragged about it when facing down members of one rebel cell. The rifles were known for having particularly cruel effects on organic life forms, destroying them agonizingly slowly, painfully, and completely. Even the Imperial Senate, not generally known for its sympathy with insurgents and their feelings, had banned their use. But Kallus had employed them mercilessly, and she imagined that despite the Senate’s publicly-expressed hand-wringing, this particular victory had been instrumental in his promotion through the Imperial ranks. So why would this memory leave him so pained? Curious, she thought. 

Kallus ran his hand through his hair and met her gaze again. “Ziro,” he mocked, “do you think I rose to my position in the ISB because of my ability to cause pain?” He drew closer, anger reddening the tips of his ears. “I rose to my current position because I am, quite simply, better than anyone else at getting information from those from whom I seek it. Pain is”—his eyes flicked away briefly—“occasionally required”—he met her gaze again with renewed control—“but rarely so.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “You will see what I mean. This,” he raised the band, which he had opened, “is a tool, but it isn’t entirely necessary. It is just convenient and slightly more direct than the low-tech alternative.” 

Ranu felt her stomach flip as he snapped the band around her wrist. Was this some sort of torture implement she’d not heard of? Was it going to stab her, or drug her, or….

“It is,” Kallus continued as if she had asked the question aloud, “a biofeedback reader. But one can do the same work with some basic biological knowledge about the species one is interrogating.” He straightened. “Now. Let’s begin.” He glanced at the datapad. “Your name is Captain Ranu. You are a pilot and leader of a rebel cell”—his eyes glanced over the datapad; she could tell that he was looking at different things on the pad, not reading—“now centered on Lothal. Your cell took over as the organizing force there after another rebel cell, consisting of a Jedi, his padawan, a Twi’lek pilot, a Lasat, a Mandalorian and a C-1 series astromech droid, left the system. For the time being. Yes?” He looked searchingly at her face before dropping his eyes back to his datapad and nodding.

“Wrong,” she responded defiantly.

“I think…not,” he replied flatly. He turned the datapad to her. “See this?” He pointed out numbers and readings as he spoke. “The combination of your pulse, your respiration, your temperature and…”—he peered into her eyes – “pupils tell me what I need to know.” He glanced back at the datapad. “You rebels could stand to be a bit better at this sort of thing,” he said, his voice sounding almost disappointed. “Bad information was at the heart of the death of the Republic, and it could be the death of the rebellion.” His face, again, had an unreadable expression. He paused to let his statement sink in. But why in the stars would he be explaining his interrogation strategies to her? She shook her head, confused.

He kept squinting at her eyes. “Oh, and Coruscant was your home, not Lothal. These are the things I know about you, Captain. And you have confirmed them quite helpfully.” He looked back down at his datapad. 

Ranu was furious. She intended to give up nothing, and already he knew who she was, what her status was with the rebellion, and where she was from. Nothing much, of course. More than she wanted to give up, but not what was really important. He didn’t know that she came from a moneyed elite family that traced its successes in trade to the time of the Republic, a family that continued as Imperial loyalists from the very start of the Empire, thus keeping their power and position secure. He didn’t know that her older siblings had been shuffled off in their youth, first to the Republic Academy and then to the Imperial Academy on what she assumed was the very planet on which she was standing right now. Her successful siblings were, of course, her mother and father’s pride and joy. She never saw them, could barely remember them; they were sucked quickly into the machinery of the Empire and her parents couldn’t have been happier to see them go into that glory, even if it meant that they were effectively gone forever. Her eyes filled at the loss. And this man didn’t know that she had run away at a perilously young age when her best friend’s family had “disappeared” after criticizing the Empire publicly. She had been on her own since she was a youngling, and found a small band of rebels early. She had shown her dedication quickly, and worked hard to hone her ability to shoot, fight, and fly. She straightened her back unconsciously. She was proud of this history. A history he would never know, if she could help it, and that he certainly would never understand.

“Now,” he said, raising his eyes from his datapad and narrowing them again. “Do you know Commander Sato of the Phoenix Squadron?” He stared at her.

“No,” she said, as impassively as she could.

He looked at his datapad, and then back up to her face. His eyes glanced over her eyes, her face, searchingly, almost desperately. Then his eyes lit up. He looked almost…joyful. Ranu’s anger rose. “You do. You know them. Are you in contact with them?” he asked quickly, his pitch rising. “Can you contact them?”

He knew. Why did he even ask? That blasted wristband, that datapad, those searching eyes. She ignored the strange tone in his voice as she was overcome with shame and self-loathing. He knew. She had broken without being broken. Her treacherous human self had given her away, had given everything away. She was furious with herself. She had expected to grit her teeth against horrible torture. She didn’t expect to be bested by an Imperial bureaucrat with a bracelet and a datapad.

“Karabast,” Ranu mumbled.

Kallus froze, his eyes lighting up with surprise as he met her eyes again. Then, once again, his face was transformed entirely as he laughed another hearty laugh. “Karabast?” he sputtered merrily. “Karabast! What does that even mean?” His laughter was uncontrollable now, tears running down his face. “Oh, Captain. Bless you. Karabast! Karabast!”

Ranu stared at the man. Was he insane? What was happening? She watched, stunned, disbelieving. The hardened Imperial Agent was practically falling over laughing at a joke she had somehow made and didn’t even understand. But he wasn’t mocking her. He was….happy.

Then she looked more carefully at him he tried unsuccessfully to catch his breath and regain control, breaking out into rolling, joyful laughter again. That face….when he laughed, it looked so familiar. She shook her head, trying to reach into her memory…who? Who did he look like? Why did he seem so …

Her mouth dropped open as the realization struck her. Her head spun and she stumbled a step toward him, barely keeping herself upright as the shock of recognition overwhelmed her. Tears rose to her eyes.

“Kal?” she whispered.

He turned and wiped away his tears of laughter. His face looked serious now. Serious but...kind. Searching. 

“Ralia?” he said, a wondering smile crossing his now-familiar face. “It is you. I thought…I hoped, when I first saw you….It is you,” he finished. He paused. “You changed your name.”

“And you yours,” she replied quietly, eyes shining.

“It is required of security agents,” he said simply. “I gave myself a name to live up to,” he added wryly, turning away. 

“You weren’t so callous when I was young,” she said with a smile. “You always played with me when Mother and Father were busy. And they were always busy.” She looked away, pain crossing her face. “I changed my name, too. So they wouldn’t find me. And,” she said, cocking her eyebrow, “so no one would make the connection to our illustrious family.” Her indignation began to rise as she realized what was before her. Her brother was an ISB Agent. Her sworn enemy, a torturer, a brutal Imperial. How could he? 

“Ralia.” He looked back at her, his face serious, almost stern, ignoring her obvious anger. “I needed to know if you knew those in the larger rebellion before I told you anything more. I’m glad it is you. Ralia, I am about to tell you something, but I don’t know if you’ll believe me.”

Ralia’s face hardened. This might be her brother, but she was no fool. He, like her other siblings, was their parents’ pride and joy because he had become a successful Imperial. And he hadn’t done it by playing dolls with his sister. 

He approached her and clicked the band off of her wrist and attached it to his own. She looked at him in confusion.

“If I release your binders, Captain, will you promise to give me five minutes before you attempt to kill me?”

She paused. “Yes. I suppose.”

He put his hand on her wrist and stared into her eyes. Then he nodded. “Very well.” He unlocked her binders. She resisted the temptation to sucker-punch her brother in the gut. He handed her the datapad.

“Look at me, and look at the datapad. And ask me a question that you know the answer to.”

Ralia looked at him, puzzled. He nodded to her impatiently.

“OK. Did you grow up in the Imperial capital of Coruscant?” she asked hesitantly.

Kallus looked at her with an expression of mild frustration. “Yes, Ralia, but I could be lying about being your brother. Try something else first to set your default data. Something the answer to which you are more certain.”

Ralia thought. “Are we standing in Imperial Headquarters?

“Yes,” replied Kallus. “Good. Look at the data. Remember it. And did you look in my eyes? Did you note what you saw?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good. Now. Ask me something you know to be false.”

“All right.” She thought for a moment. She didn’t know much about him, but she was certain of a few things. “Did you fail out of the Imperial Academy?”

“Yes.” Ralia looked at his eyes, and examined the datapad. She could see the variations in his biodata that showed her that his response was false.

“A lie. Good,” she replied, warming to the game. “Is the current emperor named Palpatine?”

“Yes.”

“True. Now. Are you trying to trick me?” she asked quickly, her eyes darting to her brother’s.

“No,” he replied simply.

She looked at him, and looked at the data. Nothing suggested he was lying to her. She took a breath, about to ask him another question, when he stepped toward her.

“Now, I will tell you something, Ralia. Listen to me very carefully. Watch me. You don’t need the datapad or the band for this, but use them. It is very important that you have no question about this. Am I understood?” he said.

“Yes, I understand.”

He paused. Then he straightened, and looked into her eyes with deadly seriousness. 

“I want to join the rebellion.”

Ralia looked at him, blinking rapidly in disbelief.

“Ralia. RALIA,” he snapped. Then his eyes softened. “Am I telling the truth?”

She looked at her brother searchingly. She glanced at the datapad. She read the signs there, noted all of the clinical data. But she didn’t need it. She could tell in her heart. 

Her brother—he had changed. He was coming home to her.

“Yes.”

Brother and sister smiled at each other. 

At the truth.


End file.
